


to hate: i, you, he

by shirohyasha



Series: in no one's favour [2]
Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Unhealthy Relationships, Yotsuba Arc, hoo boy, we thought we'd finished with death note we were wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 08:11:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14208915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shirohyasha/pseuds/shirohyasha
Summary: So he tolerates this. He tolerates being dragged about on the end of a piece of chain like some kind of deadweight pet and he tolerates L staring at him when he takes his shirt off.





	to hate: i, you, he

**Author's Note:**

> aM I SERIOUSLY WRITING DEATH NOTE FANFICTION IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD TWO THOUSAND AND EIGHTEEN
> 
> companion piece to [subsumed, piece by piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10600281)

When Light comes to his senses in his cell, his only thought is absolute, utter, panic.

He’s been locked up. He’s been locked up under suspicion of being _Kira,_ the worst serial killer in history, the serial killer so bizarre that he might not even exist. He’s been locked up by L, the world’s foremost detective, and how had someone so brilliant made such an obvious mistake? There’s no way he’s Kira, there’s no way he could do that, there’s no way –

He screams at the camera. He screams at L, he screams for his father, he screams in fear. He tries to stop himself but the words bubble out, terrified, pleading for L to let him free.

 _That’s no good,_ Light hears. _I made a promise that I wouldn’t let you out no matter what you said._

Light remembers that promise. It had seemed perfect at the time, exactly what he’d wanted. L had sworn he wouldn’t let him out and Light had been satisfied, smugly delighted. Now he’s terrified, now he’s horrified. Why had he asked for that, why did he want to be tied up and left in a cell for days, weeks?

L’s voice swims through his consciousness. L tells him that criminals have stopped dying, that he can’t let him out yet. L is definitely enjoying this, L has him tied up in a cell and totally helpless and vulnerable and that’s what’s making Light’s skin crawl more than anything else. He trusts the task force, trusts that they’ll exonerate him, trusts that he’ll be found innocent because he is innocent, isn’t Kira, hasn’t killed anyone. He does not trust L.

L’s voice is creepy. L’s voice drags through his mind like so many fingers pulling through his hair and he’s not entirely certain but he’s fairly sure what L wants.

He’s never wanted anyone like that. He’s never wanted anyone like that but L wants him and he’s bound hand and foot and entirely on display for L.

He doesn’t like it. Then he goes mad and he does. Why shouldn’t he? People have always looked at him like this, men and women and anyone and everyone. L’s eyes are dead and his voice monotonous but Light can feel it, feel his eyes through the cameras, hear it through the speakers. This is how people look at him. Everyone does in some way or another, stares at how pretty he is and how clever he is and how athletic and perfect he is.

L is just like everyone else. L is just like everyone else. L is just like everyone else except L is far smarter than everyone else and he might even be smarter than him.

He’d played tennis with L. L had put cameras in his room and watched him look at gravure magazines. L had abducted Misa and put her in restraints more extreme than anything Light had ever thought to imagine and L had tightened the handcuffs on his wrists and been the last face he’d seen before someone else had blindfolded him and dragged him down here.

Sometimes the blindfold is on. Sometimes it’s off. Light’s not sure why it keeps changing but he doesn’t care much either way, because when the blindfold is on the stare of the cameras is dulled and he can’t feel L’s stare prickling at the back of his neck.

He feels greasy. He feels messy. He feels like he’s been handcuffed in a cell for several weeks, even though they let him shower and shave. He wants to exercise, he wants to go outside and to talk to people that aren’t the task force. That aren’t L. He feels unclean.

They don’t let him out. The killings have stopped, have been stopped for several weeks and Light can only assume that Kira has picked him for the scapegoat. That Kira had chosen him at random and decided to pin his crimes on him.

It doesn’t make sense. He can’t understand why. Kira pinning his crimes on him would mean that Kira knows they’re crimes and Kira seems to think himself god, judge jury and executioner, not some petty criminal. So he bites his tongue on that theory and lies still on the cold floor of his cell and tries to revel in L’s attention, rather than shudder away from it.

 

It’s been weeks. Months? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know but he’s grown used to being stared at every waking – and presumably sleeping – moment and he’s grown used to long interludes spent doing nothing at all, staring at the wrong side of a blindfold.

His hands live behind his back. His ankles are usually bound together. He’s bored and he’s frustrated and he’s humiliated and he’s kind of used to being tied up by now, so much so that when they do finally untie him it feels weird.

He rubs his wrists, loops the fingers and thumb of his left hand around his right wrist and squeezes, follows the task force to the cars, and holds his hands up obediently when they cuff him again. There’s only a faint red loop around his right hand – he’s so used to the cuffs that he can hold still enough that they don’t break the skin of his wrists anymore.

His father shoots him in the head. Then they go back to the tower.

Light hates this. He hates it. It’s so unfair that he’s been dragged into this mess and he hates L and he hates his father and he hates himself and he hates Kira most of all. None of them should have let this happen to him. None of them should have ever so much as suspected him. He’s never done anything wrong. He’s certainly not a mass murderer.

No. It’s not L’s fault that the evidence against him was so perfect. It’s not his father’s fault for doing everything he could to prove that Light was innocent. L tells him they’re going to be cuffed together from now on and Light nods, agrees to it almost enthusiastically.

It’s alright. He can do this. He’s perfect and he’s innocent and he’s going to catch Kira and L will finally believe him.

He does admire L but L is creepy.

L is so creepy.

 

Light wakes up to L’s face now. He falls asleep to his back, his awful hunched posture and pale jutting bones. L is unattractive, rude and uncivil. Their room smells of chocolate and pastries and Light has to follow L around, because L is so much stronger than he looks and Light is good at being accommodating.

He hasn’t seen his mother since before he was locked up. He hasn’t seen Sayu. He misses them terribly. He misses his room and his regular, boring schedule and being able to chat casually with people he hadn’t really enjoyed the presence of. He misses his vapid dull dates and his university lectures and most of all he wishes he could be away from L for ten simple minutes.

But as long as L has decided that Light is suspicious – and even now, Light is sure that L is convinced of his guilt – L will never let him be alone.

So he tolerates this. He tolerates being dragged about on the end of a piece of chain like some kind of deadweight pet and he tolerates L staring at him when he takes his shirt off. He tolerates it when Misa insists on going on dates – dates inside the tower, with L there too, sitting on the same sofa and Light. They almost feel like dates with L, with Misa as the tag-along, except that would be ridiculous, so he ignores the thought.

Except sometimes L is unexpectedly funny and sometimes he seems to forget that he suspects Light (except not really, not quite) and sometimes he stares sadly at the chains like he regrets forcing them on Light.

 _You don’t sleep much, Light-kun,_ L tells him. _Like you’re one to talk,_ is Light’s answer.

They’re alone in the middle of the night often enough. The other task force members work regular hours. Watari sleeps sometimes. L and Light are the only two left.

And L looks at him.

 

Sometimes they fight. More often they don’t speak, working side by side in silence. It’s hard to track Kira; they don’t know what they’re looking for, they don’t know how he kills, they don’t know anything about him except that he’s real and that he’s a murderer.

L kicks him and Light punches back. The others break them up quickly enough and they don’t bring it up once it’s over, not even to apologise. Light won’t apologise. He doesn’t think L will either.

It’s good when L hits him. Light hasn’t a clue what he’s thinking most of the time and when they’re fighting he knows exactly what L is doing, exactly what’s going to happen. The only other time Light is certain of what L’s thinking is when Light is in some stage of undress and L can see him at all.

He doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t like girls, he doesn’t like Misa, not like that, not like Misa likes him and wants him to like her. He’s never liked girls and curled up on his side with his back to L it’s easier to admit that than it’s ever been.

But. No. He’s still Yagami Light, still as close to perfect as people come. He can’t think like that. He can’t be anything but society’s perfect child.

 

He fucks L.

 

Rather, L fucks him.

 

It’s gross. It’s messy and painful and wet and sticky and there are fluids everywhere, spit and sweat and precome and lubricant and L’s hair feels unwashed (it is) and his hands are tangled in the stupid chain above his head and he can’t move them without hurting himself.

L isn’t gentle and Light kind of wishes he would be, kind of wishes L would handle him with more care. But he doesn’t, wrenches Light’s legs over his shoulders and fucks him until he’s bitten through his lip. It hurts. It goddamn hurts. He’s a mess, red-faced and shaking and teary and begging.

L doesn’t show any mercy. He’s unnecessarily cruel and his hands trail bruises across his skin and he wishes he hated it but he doesn’t, he really doesn’t.

He comes. L comes. And there are more fluids now and Light feels drenched, soaked through and filthy and disgusted and disgusting. Which he is. They are.

He complains, tries not to sound like he’s whining. His complaints are valid, aren’t they? Neither of them sleep enough as it is, and L hadn’t used protection, and his legs are sore and so is his ass.

L doesn’t look more tired than usual. He barely looks satisfied. His eyes are as black and shadowed as ever and he follows Light around with barely a word as he tries to clean them enough that they can try and get a couple of hours of sleep.

Light is used to not sleeping. That doesn’t mean he likes it.

 

There is nothing different the next day between them. No innuendos, no lingering eye contact or touches or awkwardness. Light is grateful, probably. He doesn’t know much about the mechanisms of these things – and there’s no opportunity to learn now, not with L breathing down his neck and his computer use monitored – but he’s pretty sure that he got the more painful end of the stick.

He focuses on his computer. There are leads to follow, statistics to analyse and other mundane rubbish for him that he wishes the other task force members were intelligent enough to do. This isn’t interesting. It’s not even challenging. It’s just grinding through piles and piles and piles of data that will mostly end up with dead leads and frustration he’s good at hiding. The best at hiding.

His father leaves the building some time after ten at night, long after everyone else has left. Light promises to eat dinner soon and resumes working, and when Watari brings them a tray of sweets his stomach growls, and he smiles queasily and asks for something a little more savoury.

Perhaps when he was ten he might have enjoyed living off of sweets. In his current state, and with his current company, he doesn’t think it’d be good for him.

He’s not out of his depth. He’s not. He can keep up with this work and he can keep up with L and he won’t lose to either of them.

 _Kira is childish, and a poor loser,_ L had told them. _I know because I am childish, and a poor loser._

This Kira is not childish. He does not respond to provocations – not that L provokes him much now, anyway – and he refuses all contact with their false Kira. He does not believe himself god and he is still in Japan, and he has to have left a mistake somewhere.

Light clicks his computer off and stands up, trying not to wince as he does. He aches from sitting still all day and he aches from being so roughly treated the night before and he aches where L has been staring holes into the side of his neck. Contrary to whatever stereotypes there were, Light remained fully conscious of his surroundings even when deeply absorbed by his work. L’s eyes are hard to ignore.

_Finished, Light?_

L hasn’t moved. He’s still staring at him with his black glassy eyes and Light nods quickly, uncomfortably.

They go to bed. Rather, Light goes to bed. L sits at the desk by Light’s bed and carries on working, whatever that entails. The chain between them clinks slightly at his every tiny move but it’s not so awful, it’s not so distracting that Light can’t fall asleep comfortably.

He doesn’t sleep well but he sleeps well enough, better than normal perhaps, and when he wakes he finds L slumped over his dead laptop, sleeping just as weirdly as he sits.

Light yanks the chain between them and gets out of bed. He wants a shower.

 

They keep going. They keep searching, keep working through piles and piles of data, never coming up with anything.

Light tries everything.

This Kira is not the Kira they knew from before. This Kira is methodical and cold and does not care about the work of killing criminals.

This Kira must have some other agenda.

Light starts analysing company profits. If Kira has another agenda it’s probably to do with money, sex, or politics, and of those money is by far the easiest to put a number on. He’s probably been growing richer since the second lot of killings began, and it's not too ridiculous a notion that he's using a company to do so.

He was never particularly interested in microeconomics but of course he was good at it and now he has enough resources to properly learn about it. Quickly.

It takes time. It takes days. But he gets something eventually, he gets there in the end.

 _The Yotsuba group,_ he mutters. _I’m going to look into them._

L doesn’t say anything. Light sits up straight and winces when his spine cracks loudly, looks around to see that everyone has left. He has a dim memory of saying goodbye to them all earlier in the evening, though it’s late night now. He’s hungry and tired and he can do the rest of the research needed tomorrow, after he’s showered and eaten and slept.

 _Ryuuzaki,_ he says tiredly. _Can I go to bed?_

L looks at him blandly. _Sure._

 

There’s enough data. L fucks him the following night, though it’s really morning already and Light just wants to sleep, but for the first time in his life he’s starting to understand why people have sex and it’s because it feels _good,_ it feels intimate and thrilling and like a secret shared between two people who have too many secrets of their own (he doesn’t, but L does) and because he sleeps far more soundly when L is already sated.

He’s not afraid of L any more than he should be, which is admittedly a lot. L is ridiculously powerful and has convinced himself that Light is a murderer, and he had convinced Light’s own father to lock him up for two months and then to pretend to shoot him in the head. He’d have to be insane not to be scared of L. But he’s not more scared than is practical, or so he tells himself.

L likes it when he cries. L does not openly enjoy much but there is something vicious and gleeful in his eyes when tears fall from Light’s eyes and when he makes pathetic little noises of pain.

He doesn’t leave hickeys. He doesn’t bite and he doesn’t kiss, not really, not much. He digs his fingers into Light’s ribs and leaves arcs of circles, purple against Light’s even skin. He pins Light by the throat and fucks him, holds his face to the bed with a hand between his shoulder blades and fucks him until they’re both finished.

Light is in shape. Light appears to be more physically fit than L but they’ve been in enough fights that he knows they’re about evenly matched, and L usually has the element of surprise on his side.

Light does not know enough about relationships to know if any of this is healthy. He somehow does not think so. He does not know how to stop it.

So he doesn’t stop it.

 

It carries on until –

 

_Oh._

 

The first time L fucks him after he’s got his memories back Light almost flips them over and snaps his neck.

This is humiliating. This is embarrassing and pathetic and how _dare_ this pathetic little man do any of this to him? Light grits his teeth and forces out a moan, trying to remember what he would have done before, trying to remember how he reacted when L dug his fingernails in and covered his eyes and tangled the chain so he couldn’t move his arms.

He goes with it. He lets L degrade him and lies frozen, covered in filth, when they’re done.

He’s a god. He’s the ruler of the new world. He’s covered in bruises and come and he just let his worst enemy fuck him like a dog.

He sits up and pastes on the necessary persona and carries on.

 

It carries on until it can't any more.

**Author's Note:**

> title inspired by [shitty horoscopes book ii: anger](http://musterni-illustrates.tumblr.com/post/101258199546/the-shitty-horoscopes-anthology-is-now-funding)
> 
> idk man i just think it's fucked up that during the yotsuba arc light is genuinely just a smart kid and l is a very powerful man who has been granted full control of him like obviously light is not a good person but without his memories he's not a bad person either  
> i'm conflicted


End file.
